


i'll give them shelter like you've done for me

by Anonymous



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, BAMF everyone, Bird Hybrid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Blood and Injury, Dehumanisation, Forced to Watch, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Please Proceed With Caution, Protective Wilbur Soot, Ranboo Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Shulker Toby Smith | Tubbo, Torture, Victim Blaming, Whump, a little bit, hybrid trafficking, i guess, or listen??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: While out on a expedition by himself, Ranboo is jumped by hybrid traffickers.(Set in the origins server where everyone is part hybrid)
Relationships: ALL PLATONIC, Charlie Dalgleish & Jschlatt, Charlie Dalgleish & Ranboo, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Ranboo & Toby Smtih | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 322
Collections: Anonymous





	i'll give them shelter like you've done for me

**Author's Note:**

> **THIS WORK IS ABSOLUTELY N O T TO SEXUALISE ANY OF THE MINORS WHICH IS WHY THE NON-CON BIT IS NOT DESCRIBED AND IS ONLY ALLUDED TO**   
>  **BIG TW AND PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION**
> 
> what the fuck even is this honestly i hate it

“ _Phil_ ,” Wilbur whined over the call. “Phil, me me hungy.” Ranboo could just about see the puppy dog eyes underneath the too-big helmet he wore, pleading in the only way he knew how. Niki’s laugh came through, light and breathy. “I want mama bird right here. _Now,_ Phil!”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” Phil yelled, sounding breathless. Wind whistled through his words; he must’ve been flying.

A snort from Jack. “That’s what she said, innit?”

Silence followed that little statement, silence where Ranboo pressed a fist to his mouth to stop himself from laughing. Silence broken up by Charlie. “Anyway, who votes we make Jack take a bath?”

“Me.”

“Me.”

“Me.”

“Hey, hey! Guys, please, it was just a joke! Oh god, Tubbo wait, please no it was just a joke, it was _a joke Tubbo please!”_

“Tubbo’s grabbed him and he’s dragging Jack down to the water,” Tommy commentated, sounding only slightly curious as he watched. “Oh, never mind, Tubbo nearly just got set on fire. Wait, now he’s being chased around.”

Ranboo cleared his throat. “As thrilling as this is,” he said very pointedly, “I’d like for someone to remind me where the temple was again?” Naturally, him being an enderman and unable to go to places of high moisture, meant he went out on plenty of expeditions to deserts and savannahs in hopes of finding more resources to make their little sanctuary better.

“Um.” Niki’s voice always came over the comms a little garbled. The enchantments on her device that kept them working in the water weren’t quite enough to make the quality of the call any better, but it was better than nothing. “I believe Phil said it was next to the village near that river.”

Ranboo scanned the landscape that stretched far and wide, with powdery sand in great big dunes. The heat melted into a savannah that eventually led to the great ocean. Maybe not making logical sense, but neither did creepers when he thought about it. “The river that goes…uh, runs from the north?”

“Mhm! Follow it into the desert.”

He did, sighing a little in relief. “Thanks, Niki.”

He trekked on, listening into the clamouring from his comms with a twinkle in his eye, basking in the light and heat and the way that he was lonely, but not really. He hadn’t been truly lonely for months.

Jack’s heavy breathing filled his comms. “Phil, please, they’ll kill me!”

“We’d do no such thing!”

“Well,” Ranboo muttered with a faint smile, “you probably will. I mean, I can tell you now that it really doesn’t take a lot of water to kill one of us.”

“Ranboo, I’m divorcing you.”

There was a _thunk_ on the other end. “You two were _married?”_ Phil hollered.

Ranboo had to pause and double over, clutching his ribs as he cackled loudly, his laughter echoed by Tubbo and Tommy as Phil spluttered something or another to them.

This was happiness.

He heard the twang of a bow and kept moving, grin still plastered on his face, mindful of the skeleton most likely hiding in a rocky outcropping of some sorts. “We-we weren’t _actually_ married, Phil.”

“Oh, but we were, Ranboo.”

“Tubbo, you asking me to marry you and me saying yes does _not_ constitute as a wedding.”

“You’re boring.”

“So are you.”

There was silence on the other end for a big. He heard someone snicker. “I’m divorcing you.”

“Oh no,” Ranboo intoned. “My poor, bleeding heart.”

When he said that, he meant for it to be a joke, but it was very much nearly real. Because that wasn’t a skeleton he’d heard before. Oh no. They were worse.

Agony tore through his shoulder and Ranboo let out a shrill, piercing scream that was shot through with static, blasting out his own ears from the loudness of it all as he fell to the sandy ground, warm blood running down his arm and sleeve, drenching his shirt as he clutched at the wound with gritted teeth.

“—boo? Ranboo!” Phil’s voice sounded panicked and there were other clamouring with him, striving to get his attention. “Ranboo, mate, can you hear me?”

With a sharp, shuddering breath, Ranboo hunched over, fingers tightening on his shoulder. “Y-yeah. I go-got shot.”

“Do you feel dizzy at all? Sick? Ranboo, bud, stay with us! Niki’s coming to your coordinates.”

Right. She could move a lot faster underwater than they could move above ground. “O-okay.” Purple-red blood stained the ground below him, making the sand stick to him. Squinting through the haze of pain and the light of the sun, he could make out five figures coming toward him. Human from what he could tell, dressed in dark clothing and balaclavas, armed to the teeth. “Pl-please hurry.”

“I am!” Niki cried, voice even more garbled than usual. Ranboo scooted away, baring his teeth at his attackers. One of them still held a crossbow.

“D-don’t come an-any closer!” he tried, putting as much of a threat in his words. He wanted to force his body to fucking _move,_ to try and teleport away as quick as he could even with the pain addling his thoughts. He needed to be careful not to land in the river there.

One of them scoffed, hefting up his sword. Ranboo’s comms had gone eerily silent. “Or what?” the man teased. “You’ll stutter at me?”

“Who’s there?” Wilbur whispered into his ear. “Who’s that?”

“Teleport! Get out of there!” Tommy hissed.

Ranboo just shook his head, unhinging his jaw and showing off all of his teeth with a menacing look in his eyes. “I’ll r-rip you apa-apart!” he growled with the undercurrent of static present in his voice. He wasn’t sure how he would achieve that goal, considering that there were five of them and only one of him. That wasn’t even touching the fact that Ranboo was very injured.

The man snorted. “Bag him, boys.” He caught a smile under his words. “We’re getting paid tonight.”

Paid? What did they mean, paid?

It hit him a second later. “Hybrid traffickers,” he whispered, too quiet for anyone but himself and whoever was still listening to their devices could hear.

“Shit!” That must’ve been Schlatt.

“Okay.” Slime’s voice sounded strained under the forced panic. “O-okay, keep your location on at all times. Don’t let them take your comms, Ranboo. Bite them if you have to.” Someone was talking in the background, words frantic and tumbling out. “Phil’s gone with Wilbur to scout for you and the rest of us are preparing to come for you as well. We’re not giving up until we find you, understand?”

He nodded before realising no one could actually see him. No one, of course, but the traffickers who were right above him, when did that happen—

Ranboo shrieked when two hands attached to each of his arms, yanking him backward, pushing him toward the ground. He struggled and kicked, yelping when a boot caught his side. Long, black nails scratched and tore at any bit of skin they could reach, and he felt satisfaction at the trickle of warm liquid running down his fingers.

That satisfaction was wiped from his face, from his mind, the moment someone loomed over him, hands in a metal gauntlet. “Hold him still,” he growled. Their grips tightened, hands now on his legs, pinned down completely, unable to move and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _breathe—_

“Ranboo! Ranboo, what’s going on? Ranboo!”

The gauntlet came down, down, down. He watched it, as if in a dream, as it connected with his chest, right in the middle of his sternum. Right above his pearl.

There was a crack. Then a scream.

“St-stop!” Ranboo sobbed, gasping for air that didn’t come. “Sto-op, please, no more, _no more!”_ The sentence ended in a staticky screech as the gauntlet came down again. He couldn’t scream, choking out something small and pathetic instead, blood bubbling up to his lips and dribbling a lazy way down his chin. “Ngh-no mo-ore. Ple-please,” he wheezed out. “It _hurts,_ n-no more, please.”

Tears forced their way down his cheeks, burning and hissing as they touched his raw skin, tears that were wiped away roughly. “Sorry about that,” the man said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “Had to make sure you wouldn’t teleport away.” There was a rustle of rope.

It was now, zoning back in through the haze, that Ranboo could register the panic in his ears from his friends mostly. The terror in the tones as they asked again and again, ‘ _what happened, are you okay’_ as all he could do was cry.

“We’re coming, we’re coming we swear!”

Breathing was harder than before, what with his chest caving in on itself, his mouth filling with more and more blood, leaving behind the taste of copper.

They forced him up, earning a warbled cry, muffled by the blood, and forced his arms around his back, only pulling at his chest muscles even further. They burned and ached and screamed for mercy, and Ranboo couldn’t do much more than let out a sobbing gasp, whole body wracked with shudders.

“Ranboo?” The voice was softer now. Gentle. Sounded like Wilbur’s singing voice. “Ranboo, I need you to cough if they can hear you right now.” There was strain there, but still calming.

It took a little bit for Ranboo’s sluggish mind to process the question, opening his mouth for a weak, gurgling cough that seized his ribs again in a grip of molten metal and squeezed tight. “Okay, we have eyes on your location via tracker. We won’t be more than an hour. Keep the tracker on you.”

Fabric was pulled over his eyes and he let out a distressed chirp, trying to push the hands off of him. Something hard struck his face. “Shut up.” So he did.

“Are you moving? Ranboo, are you moving?” No response from him, too wrapped up in the throbbing agony and the disorientation that came with it. He heard the _slosh_ of water in a container and couldn’t help the fear flickering to life at the sound. The way his back went rigid, the way he curled in onto himself, the way he pressed his lips together to stop himself from whimpering as he was shoved blindly forward.

“Phil, can you see him?”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, I have the tracker here, and I think they’re moving. I’m sending the coords. Tommy, Slime and I are gonna go through the east. We’ll meet you there!” Tubbo. His eyes filled with tears that were thankfully absorbed by the blindfold. He didn’t want to go! Not when he’d finally found a place that accepted him!

His hair flopped onto his face. He was aware of it tickling his cheeks and forehead. The same hair that had hidden the little earpiece that allowed him to continue listening to his friends, even if their words were blurring in and out of focus.

The splash of water registered. And then he was burning.

His arm, just above the elbow, felt as if it had been stabbed through with a thousand tiny needles, felt as if acid was eating it from the outside in and he was going to _die he was going to die or get sold off to someone who was going to kill him or cage him and he would never see Tubbo or Tommy or Niki or Phil again and he was going to die—_

A hard pat to his back that made him flinch away. “You act up and we’ll spritz you. Got it?” He nodded in response.

“Prep for water burns, Jack! I heard something.”

“Maybe you aren’t so useless after all, Tommy.”

“Shut up, bitch.”

A weak attempt at humour that largely didn’t work, but his tears slowed down a little. He hiccupped, the terrain under his feet turning softer, springier. Grass, and he could smell the sweet scent of a forest up ahead.

Ranboo’s heart sunk. Phil wouldn’t be able to see them under a canopy of leaves.

They travelled like that for ages. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since they’d begun, feet growing more and more weary as he trudged on, tripping on roots and rocks lodged in the soft grown. His chest ached and his arm burned with the residue water.

The shake of a bottle behind him was enough to keep him pressing forward, mouth clamping shut around any of the chirps and warbles he wanted to make, fear pushing his spine down, making him shrink in on himself.

There was rushing water to his right. He knew that much, and leaned away from it, desperate not to be thrown in. “Keep going. We’ll be setting up camp in a while.”

“You guys heard that, right? Okay, we’ve just been bought more time. Schlatt, where are you?”

“Brewing strength pots. I’m with Jack.”

“Meet us up at his original coords. We’ll—”

He gasped as fingers grappled at his right ear, tearing away the earpiece. “N-no!” he cried, being pushed to the ground roughly, landing on his knees in the grass.

There was a presence hovering above him. “You won’t need this where you’ll be going.” Ranboo shivered at the hand that lingered on his shoulder too long.

* * *

Wilbur hissed in frustration, leaning against the tree and panting, for the first time in ages feeling exhausted at the amount of running he’d had to do. That usually never tired him out but today was a day of firsts, he supposed.

The first time he’d ever had to encounter hybrid traffickers.

Slime had, in his past. That was how he’d met Schlatt, how they’d come to this little sanctuary together, how they’d bonded over something so horrific, an ordeal so traumatising that they barely spoke of it. Wilbur remembered the condition in which they’d arrived, half-starved and wild and terrified, not talking to anyone but each other for those first days.

He couldn’t imagine how they felt now that this bright-eyed kid was in their clutches and was so out of reach, actively being hurt. A nightmare for Wilbur already. Something much worse for those two.

It would be fine, he assured himself, tuning back into the conversation.

“Hello?” he panted. “I lost their trail. They’re in the forest, but I’m not sure where.”

“Tubbo can’t trace the signal anymore. It’s scuffed, apparently.” Phil was above him, high up in the air and scanning the landscape around, squinting through the canopy for something that looked familiar to their ender-boy. “They took his earpiece, Wil,” he said tersely.

Wilbur’s heart dropped. “They what?”

“He can’t hear us anymore,” Tubbo chimed in, jittery. “But we can hear him.” An audible swallow.

“Everyone rendezvous at the desert,” Schlatt ordered. “I’m coming and I’m bringing shit.”

The affirmatives came in quickly. He heard a splash behind him as Niki turned tail and swam back in the other direction. “Wil, where are you? I’m coming to pick you up.”

Wilbur sighed to himself, scrubbing at his eyes furiously in tiredness and praying it wouldn’t rain soon. The sun was beginning to set and they needed to get a move on before—

No. He couldn’t think about the ‘if’ here.

* * *

They’d set up camp in that very desert, right next to the river where Tommy had thrown down one of Niki’s water-proof mattresses down to her. There wasn’t a particular need for a blanket considering how warm the water was in these parts. Then, they’d huddled next to the river and planned, earpieces on and tuned in specifically to Ranboo’s device so that they could hear those men talk and plan.

Technically, only two of them were on ‘listening duty’. Tommy and Phil had their freakishly good bird ears, but Tubbo had insisted on joining them.

Wilbur had been inclined to let him. How could he refuse in a situation like this?

Slime and Schlatt didn’t look great, but considering the circumstance, that was to be expected. Really, Wilbur was just surprised at how driven they were in working toward getting Ranboo back.

“Okay,” Wilbur began, reaching forward to poke at the fire gingerly with a stick, eyes glinting in the light of the coals. “So we have two strength and three healing, right?”

“Mhm.” Jack shifted through his pack to double check.

Wilbur nodded once. “Okay. I have bandages on me. I’m assuming they damaged his pearl in some way—” a collective wince from everyone, “and I’m also assuming you brought weapons with you.”

“Yup.”

“What’s stopping us from getting his coordinates right now, Tubbo?” Schlatt sat on Wilbur’s other side, chugging out of a flask but paused for the moment.

Tubbo shrugged, flicking his open again and frowning at it furiously, as if it would be enough to make the damn thing work. Every second that passed, grated. “I think there are too many signals to pick up a specific one. And I think they have some kind of program that automatically jammed Ranboo’s signal anyway. It fucked with the satellite.”

“But the earpiece still works?”

“Mhm. That’s on a radio frequency, though. They’d have to tune in to listen to us.”

Tommy drummed his fingers against his leg, taking another long sip of warm tea that they had boiled over the fire, determined to stay awake for longer than he should. The moon was creeping up her usual path into the night and this was turning out to be the longest and shortest day of Wilbur’s life.

Ranboo’s end had been mostly silence. Phil said that the earpiece was tossed somewhere close by to him, away from the men so they could hear his strangled, pained breathing. Occasionally, there was a little sob that send a bolt of icy fury through Wilbur’s heart.

A hand settled on his own, scaly and damp and cool. Niki smiled up at him, tight but hopeful. “We’ll get him back.”

Right. He couldn’t forget that there were others here, just as ready to fight for Ranboo’s life.

His fingers curled around hers tightly. “Yeah. We will. They won’t know what hit them.”

“We all know it will be Tubbo,” Niki muttered with a giggle before ducking back under the water. Oh, Wilbur would pay serious money to watch Tubbo in all of his 5’6” glory tackle a grown man. She resurfaced. “They will not get away with whatever they did to him, I can assure you.” That sounded a lot more threatening. Wilbur honestly forgot how scary Niki could be.

He laid down on the grass, still holding onto her hand. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, they fucking won’t. Not while we’re alive and kicking.”

Gods, what would they even _do_ if Ranboo was snatched from them and taken away to—

He _really_ had to stop thinking about that.

“Guys?” Phil said. Oh, Wilbur did _not_ like his tone of voice and what it usually preceded. That was the ‘ _oh fucking shit, we’re fucked’_ voice he used.

Everyone immediately straightened upon hearing it. Tommy squinted, going pale as he cupped his ear and listened harder. Oh no. That wasn’t good.

That was his cue to tune back in, and he did, raising the volume of the ongoing call.

_“…too pretty to be put in those camps.”_

_“D-don’t tou-touch me—”_

_“C’mon now. Just sit still for me.”_

Oh. Oh Wilbur was actually going to be sick.

Horror was reflected on the faces of everyone present, and Phil and Schlatt moved in tandem to rip the earpieces away from Tubbo and Tommy to spare them from…

“Shit,” Slime hissed, yanking his away from his ear with wild eyes. “They-they wouldn’t—Schlatt, they _wouldn’t,_ right?” Schlatt’s silence said enough. “He-he’s just a _kid,_ they _can’t!_ ” His voice crept higher and higher with terror.

Tubbo tried to jump Schlatt for his earpiece. “Hey! Give it here!”

“Can’t, kid.” Already, his words sounded hollow. “Not for you to listen to.” His eyes met Wilbur’s and then Phil’s. “We gotta hurry.”

No more was said. No more needed to be said. Wilbur felt hot tears prick at the corners of his eyes because he _wanted_ to stop listening more than anything in the world, but he _couldn’t_. He couldn’t force himself stop. He’d always been a self-punishing bastard.

_“I-I do-don’t want-want it please, st-stop!”_

_“I know you’re enjoying it you little—”_ and Wilbur scrambled to turn it off, wanting nothing more than to split his skin open.

He was faintly aware of Jack retching into the grass. Stumbling to his feet, he stood tall in the moonlight, eyes shut and form shimmering on the cusp of corporealness. This carefully constructed show of horrors playing among the other forests sounds, the birds, running water, the crickets, was a new, wicked kind of torture he’d never thought he’d ever had to experience. And Ranboo—

Gods, he was just a _kid._

“Niki,” he heard himself saying. “Niki, what’s upstream? Into the forest? I heard running water through the comms.”

“Just more woods.” She frowned, swiping quickly at her eyes and setting her face into a scowl of determination. “If you want to go look again, come with me for the moment, Wilbur. You can stay invisible.”

“What are you planning?” Phil asked. His wings puffed up, ready for flight. Ready to use, ready to fight. Good. “Another scouting mission?”

A nod. “Niki and I can be on stealth.”

Schlatt snapped his fingers. “Tommy, Phil and I can be high up without taking damage. Not that hard for us to sit on top of trees and not be seen. Well…” He glanced at Tommy. “We’ll see. Jack, Slime and Tubs can make up the first wave of offence.”

“Guys?” Jack tried.

Everyone stared at him. Wilbur blinked. “The fuck did you drink just now, and can I have some?”

The flask was hugged closer to his chest. “No. Fuck off.”

“Hey guys?”

“Children, stop fighting.” But there was a smile in Phil’s voice. Hope. “So the plan is for us to head up the river and ambush them, right? Assuming they’re staying along it for the night.”

“Guys!”

Noises of compliance drifted along the small group. “It’s better than chasing a fucky signal,” Tubbo chimed in.

“ _Guys_!”

“ _What_ is it, Manifold?” Wilbur snapped.

But his exasperation melted when he saw the invis potions in his friend’s hands. “Thought these might come in handy, so I brought them along,” he said bashfully.

There was a long, stretching pause, broken up by Tommy doubling over in a mighty laugh that shook his frame, maybe a little hysterical. Wilbur’s face split in a grin and he whooped, hopping around cheerfully like a madman, arms flailing wildly. “Since fucking _when?_ I could seriously kiss you now, Jack!”

“Please don’t.”

Schlatt stood unsteadily. “Armour on, boys.” He grinned, wide and deadly, showing razor-sharp teeth dripping with venom as he grabbed a stick and pushed the end in the campfire. “Tonight, we feast!” he hissed, waving his torch around.

Everyone voiced their own sentiments, from Niki’s shrill clicks to Phil’s low croons to Tubbo straight-up screaming to Slime slurping in the most disgusting manner. He saw the same want for blood in each of their eyes and cackled.

Oh, those bastards were _fucked._

* * *

So the plan went like this:

There was a high, haunting note from a bird. Definitely not native to the lands around here, but that wasn’t the important part. The important point were the answering coos and chirps that echoed over the treetops.

The signal had been given after careful surveillance. A spider’s click-clack, the little noises that its horrifically sharp pincers made sliced through the night air, and the men congregated around their measly fire shivered in anticipation of mob attacks, drawing ever closer together. Their precious loot was tied up to a tree, trussed like a chicken before a roast, unconscious or perhaps dead. Who could tell?

They had gagged him when the crying got too annoying.

Then, a ghostly wail. Something that raked chills up their spines, that made them all stiffen with fear. They’d heard of a phantom living in those parts. They hadn’t thought the rumour was true.

Rustling leaves and bushes. The leader was pushed forward, sword trembling in his grip.

(A man’s resolve, stronger than steel in the Sun, grew weak under the thready light of the Moon.)

But imagine their surprise when it wasn’t a spirit, a haunted soul with a bloody heart and empty eyes that stumbled out but rather a young man in a dark robe and a beanie.

“Hello, gentlemen!” he called, brown eyes twinkling. Truly, his face was handsome. Kindly, even, the face of a poet or musician. Of a gentle soul.

(Looks were deceiving. Just as a half-enderman may wish no harm upon another person, a poet’s pen was sharp enough to tear through throats faster than a honed blade.)

Still, they were cautious. One man went to stand by the loot. Protective. “Hello?” the leader called nervously. “Who’s there?”

The poet laughed amicably, throwing his head back. Something in the enderman stirred as he turned his head to where he thought the newcomer was. It couldn’t be. “My name’s Wilbur and I’m from the next village over, actually! I, um, got lost looking for food.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Oh.” The leader sighed in relief and shook his head. “Well, you’d best be off,” he muttered awkwardly.

Wilbur shook his head, eyes growing wide. “Oh no! I’m afraid I’ll die out here!”

“So?” But his resolve was weakening. He didn’t suspect. No one was ever suspicious of the pretty ones.

Wilbur shrugged. “I’d like to stay here for the night. I have gold and loot to pay you back.” He gestured at the fire and then his cloak. “It’s warmer here than it is out there. And I literally just nearly walked into a horde of spiders.”

A shudder ran across the group. The _click-clack_ came through the trees again in answer. Wilbur hiked up his coat further to prevent them from seeing his smile.

“Yeah.” The leader sighed. “Yeah, come on. We don’t have much food.”

“That’s alright.” Wilbur came closer, drawing down his beanie to hide his transparency and scanned the campsite carefully, eyes snagging on the hunched over lump leaning on the tree stump. “Oh shit, what’s that?” he asked in fake wonder, drawing closer despite the noise of protest that came from the men.

Ranboo shuddered as he did, drawing his knees up close to his chest, bruised and burned arms looping around them to keep them in place as he blindly shifted away from the newcomer. It was fear that consumed him.

 _It’s Wilbur!_ _Wilbur wouldn’t hurt me!_

But he wasn’t sure what was real anymore. Not with the haze in his head, the fog of thought and pain that hadn’t lifted yet, the paralysing terror that gripped his heart and refused to let go no matter what.

“That’s our…” The man trailed off, unsure of what else to say about their loot. Certainly, the poet realised that it was dangerous, that it could tear and bite and kill, couldn’t he?

But Wilbur just let out a soft exclamation, reaching forward and gently running his fingers through Ranboo’s hair, heartstrings tugging at the flinch. “Is he part _enderman?_ ”

They shifted on their feet, suddenly nervous. A sword was drawn. If Wilbur found out about the trafficking, there was no way he could leave alive. “We think so. He-uh, he was terrorising the population around here, so we decided to take care of it. Don’t worry. You won’t be seeing him around anymore.”

Ranboo stifled a sob, drawing in a sharp gasp of air. Wilbur’s hands were in his hair still, carding through the locks gently, carefully, in an effort to be soothing. “You know,” he mused, the suffocating rage beginning to rise up within him, “there’s a story around these parts. It’s an old tale, but I’m sure you wouldn’t mind hearing it?”

“I—” But the leader met Wilbur’s gaze, his eyes completely black, sclera and all, and sat down immediately, moved by a force he couldn’t possibly explain. His crew all followed with multiple _thumps._

“Once upon a time,” Wilbur began, “there was a man. An angel, who’d protect the innocent, the broken creatures that he could find. They say he had beautiful, black wings that looked close to how stars did. Stunning things that flew strong, that lifted him high and kept him up on that pedestal. Over time, he grew bored. So he collected strangers, children born into unfortunate situations because of who they were. He took them in and loved them as if they were his own children.”

Inky black tears were slipping down Wilbur’s cheeks, staining his skin and dripping onto the floor below. Lightning crackled above, illuminating Wilbur, his see-through body glowing for a split second as he shrugged the cloak off. “But one day, a band of fools decided to disturb the peace this angel had made. They decided to take someone from under his protection, and hurt him in the cruellest way they knew how. Do you want to know what the angel did to them when he found them, trembling next to their campfire like the cowards they are?”

The leader shook his head. The spell broke and they all stumbled to their feet as more lightning lit up the sky. But when they turned to look for Wilbur, he wasn’t there. “Shit!” The leader motioned for them to huddle around each other with their swords drawn. “Keep your eyes peeled.

Fire flickered to life in the treetops, crackling merrily. A shadow stood in front of it, large and looming, great wings stretched wide, robe billowing. “I believe you have something of mine,” the figure boomed.

A hand grasped the leader’s shoulder. Wilbur popped into sight next to him, grinning. “Boo!” he whispered.

The world erupted into chaos. Screaming as a red and white clad person, child really, ran headfirst into combat, axe swinging with a maniacal laugh. Fire crept up the grass and licked the sides of a tree, originating from the hands of a blaze who held that same flame in his eyes. One unlucky man was sent crashing to the floor as a shulker came plummeting down on him with a yell.

“Ambush!” the leader hollered.

“Got yourself in a pretty _sticky_ situation, huh?” A screech from Slime and twin globules of green goop hit a man dead in the eyes, eliciting an agonised scream and permanent blindness probably. “Your _slime_ is up!”

“Good one!” Phil yelled back, thwacking someone with his wings. “Tommy, to your left!”

“Thanks, Dadza!”

Skirting around Slime and his panic-puns, Wilbur sped over to Ranboo, ghostly hands working to free him from the bonds. “Hey,” he whispered, “hey, it’s just me. It’s Wilbur, okay. You’re okay, we’re taking you back home. Everyone’s here. You’re okay.”

The blindfold first and Wilbur winced at the burns on his cheeks, the discolouring that peppered his skin. They must’ve sprayed him with water. He took in the bruises on his collarbones and neck, the damage at his wrists and the welt on his cheek. The broken look in his eyes, the way his lip trembled as Wilbur took the gag off and threw his arms around the boy. “It’s okay, Ranboo. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“W-Wilbu-ur, I di-didn’t want i-it,” Ranboo said hoarsely. “I swe-swear I did-didn’t wa-want it.”

“I believe you, I believe you.”

Movement behind him. One lucky soul who’d been fortunate enough to escape the carnage. “Get your hands off of him,” he growled. “Or I’ll kill you and make them all watch.”

No. Wilbur didn’t think he would. His arms drew tighter around Ranboo, form shimmering violently. “I think the fuck not,” he snarled back. _Click-clack. Click-clack._ He smiled. “Behind you,” he sang.

“Wh—”

His question was cut off by a scream as Schlatt in all of his spidery glory descended down upon him, murder in his eyes, teeth snapping open and shut ever few seconds. Legs pinned the man down, and Wilbur could see the satisfaction in his friend’s eyes as he plunged his head downwards, jaws snapping shut around soft flesh.

The blood-curdling scream died out as the poison began to take effect.

He saw that Phil had taken care of the fourth man, who lay there with an axe to his head. Leaving one more idiot, their fearless leader, left.

Of course, he was holding Tommy at sword point, right next to the river. Tommy, surprisingly, looked calm in this situation, lips twitching upward. No one dared to so much as breathe. Lightning flashed and Ranboo jolted.

“Well,” Phil said easily, sword casually resting by his side. “Looks like we’re at a stalemate.”

“Yeah.” The leader leered. “Give me my enderman, and I’ll give you your bird.” Because Ranboo would sell for a lot more than Tommy would, that much was true.

Phil shrugged. “I’m going to give you five seconds to let him go and run for your life, mate.”

“I’m not afraid of _you_.”

A chuckle. “Oh no.” There was a splash in the water, and Wilbur suddenly knew what he was doing and started to laugh as well, quietly. “ _I’m_ not the one you should be afraid of.”

Five. Four. Three. Two. One—

Schlatt had shot out a thread of sticky silk that attached to Tommy’s torso and pulled him forward just as scaled hands grabbed the leader by the ankles and tugged him backwards into the river.

A struggle ensued, a terrifyingly silent few minutes as they waited with baited breath for the victor to announce themselves. _Please let her be okay please let her be okay please let her be okay—_

Wilbur needn’t have worried. Niki popped her head out of the water, sporting a bite mark on her forearm but otherwise okay. A dark shape, a body, floated away, guided by the currents in the water. “Is everyone okay?” she asked, grinning wearily. “Can we go home?”

Wilbur carefully gathered Ranboo up in his arms. Tommy leaned against Phil for support, hobbling around on a bad ankle as Tubbo sprinted over to be by Ranboo’s side. “I think so.”

A tentative calmness passed through the small group. Wilbur wrapped his precious cargo up with his cloak, tugging the hood over the kid’s hair gently. He pressed his lips against Ranboo’s forehead with a smile and hefted him into a more comfortable position. Phil glanced around at them. “Alright. Come on. We can make it back home before sunset. I think tomorrow would be nicest as a rest day.”

“Indeed. Lead on, Phil. Let’s go home.”

Ranboo shivered and shook in his grip still, no longer crying or looking so lost and broken but definitely not alright by a long shot. But Tubbo grabbed his hand and ran his thumb over Ranboo’s knuckles. “You’ll be okay, big man.”

And Ranboo didn’t respond, but that was alright. He would in due time.

The moon slipped lower and lower over the horizon as they made their way back to their flower field, guided only by the light of the stars and all Wilbur’s exhausted mind could think of at that moment was of how much hot chocolate he needed to make for everyone

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, comments and kudos fuel me so please leave some of those


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